


Love in a Mist

by GreenArcher



Category: Assassin's Creed - All Media Types
Genre: Assassin's Creed: Syndicate, Canon Compliant, Character Study, Coming of Age, F/M, Falling In Love, Feminist Themes, First Kiss, Interracial Relationship, One Shot, POV Third Person Limited, Past Tense, References to Jane Austen, Victorian Attitudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:22:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23632291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GreenArcher/pseuds/GreenArcher
Summary: "Given her unique upbringing, Evie had every reason to believe that she was meant for a higher purpose. She was too pragmatic and invested in the Creed to think about falling in love." A more detailed look at Evie's feelings for Henry during the events of AC:Syndicate.
Relationships: Evie Frye & Jacob Frye, Evie Frye/Henry Green | Jayadeep Mir
Comments: 1
Kudos: 44





	Love in a Mist

_"Don't let personal feelings compromise the mission."_

It was one of her father's final words to her, and Evie Frye clung to it like scripture. For if not her, then who? Jacob, for all his brute strength and cunning, was still a trigger-happy boy at heart. He had never cared about upholding his father's values as she did. While Evie had spent her youth pouring over the words of Altaïr Ibn-La'Ahad and Ezio Auditore in the family library, Jacob had spent his getting into scrapes with the Crawley police or picking fights with his father downstairs. With a lout like him for a brother, Evie could only conclude that it was up to her to preserve her father's teachings after his passing.

Evie knew that vanity was an unbecoming trait of an Assassin. But secretly, she had always prided herself on being above the other women of her station. For as an Assassin first and a lady second, she would never have to conform to the expectations of marriage and motherhood prescribed to so many girls her age. She doubted she'd be suited to such a life anyway. In all her twenty-one years of existence, not a single man in Crawley had caught her fancy. The one time she'd tried to read _Pride and Prejudice_ on a dare from Jacob, she'd ended up throwing it across the room in a fit of rage. It was utterly ridiculous to her that almost all the Bennett sisters should base their self-worth on marrying a man of good fortune. And the romance between Mr. Darcy and Miss Elizabeth was far too good to be real. Why settle for superfluous notions of love and marriage when you could fight for a cause much greater than yourself? Yes, given her unique upbringing, Evie had every reason to believe that she was meant for a higher purpose. She was too pragmatic and invested in the Creed to think about falling in love.

That was, until the day she and Jacob had met Mr. Green in London. And while Evie wasn't smitten with the young Assassin mentor then, she couldn't deny feeling something of an attraction to him during that first encounter. She liked his thoughtfulness; how he'd immediately shared his condolences for her father when they'd arrived in the city. He was more of a strategist than a mercenary, preferring books to fists and bullets. After working with her militant brother for all these weeks, Evie couldn't have asked for a better partner to help her continue her research.

At first, Evie had felt apprehensive about sharing a workspace with Mr. Green, given her strict habit of working things through on her own. But soon, she embraced the change. Mr. Green was excellent company, and an attentive listener with whom she shared many interests. Between their long research sessions on the Shroud's whereabouts, she would share the little things with him: how different London was compared to Crawley, her frustrations with Jacob, how she felt his gang of Rooks were doing more harm to the city than good. In turn, Mr. Green would tell her stories about his childhood in India, and early days settling into London society as "The Ghost." Evie was surprised by how comfortable she felt around the foreign Assassin, and how he could make her laugh like nobody else. He was a cultured man who knew a great deal about the world, and that impressed her immensely.

It was Jacob who'd been the first to tease her about the increasing amount of "alone time" she was spending with their London mentor. Evie had rolled her eyes at him and shirked him off, assuring him their relationship was strictly professional. True, maybe she got a little weak-kneed every time Henry—no, _Mr. Green,_ smiled at her. And maybe he was always the first person she'd run to see when she'd return from one of her missions. And maybe some nights before bed, she'd daydream about his handsome face, gentle disposition, and the jolt of electricity she'd felt when they'd accidentally touched hands for the first time. It was just a little infatuation, nothing more. Besides, she hadn't forgotten about her father's warning. She would not let personal feelings compromise the mission.

Then came the incident in the Strand. Evie's first mistake. Despite Henry's reservations about joining her in the field, she had _insisted_ he come along. After spending so much time working together in the train hideout, why should she take the glory of uncovering Buckingham Palace's secret plans for herself? The fact that she wanted an excuse to spend more time with him was only a minor detail.

But the mission had failed. Henry had gotten himself kidnapped by Blighters, and Evie, against her better judgment, had abandoned the heist to rescue him. For a few lingering moments wandering through the piazza, she had genuinely feared for his life. It wasn't until she had recovered him from the sewers and fought her way through the Blighter ambush that she came back to her senses. And what she felt then was horror. For if she hadn't insisted on dragging Henry along, then she wouldn't have had to rescue him in the first place. And if she hadn't had to rescue him, then the plans for Buckingham Palace would be safe in her hands this very moment.

Her thoughts of dread quickly turned into anger. How could she have been so foolish? She had broken her father's word, letting personal feelings cloud her decision-making. She had wasted valuable time and resources on a task she could have easily completed herself, had she not been distracted.

There was only one thing left to do to remedy the situation. It was time to put an end to her field partnership with Mr. Green, for good.

Mr. Green accepted Evie's decision reluctantly, but without protest. He had always respected her judgment—one of the many reasons why she'd grown so fond of him these past few months. But while they continued their research together on the train, there was a strain on their relationship now that wasn't there before. Evie would lose her temper with him over trifling matters, and Henry's bumbling apologies to her only increased her frustration. She looked for every excuse to distance herself, knowing the change would benefit them both. As it turned out, this was a terrible idea. For in depriving herself of Henry's company, Evie could only think of him more. She was growing more enamoured with him by the day and she _hated_ herself for it.

Still, she would not back down from her decision. Not when there was still a mission to complete. And so, she continued to do what she did best: assassinating London's most dangerous Templars, strengthening her rapport with her allies, and staying one step ahead of Mr. Starrick's plans. Once she had finished her work here, she would leave this city and sever whatever affections she still carried for the amiable Mr. Green. Soon, he would be nothing more to her than a distant memory.

* * *

"Where to now?"

"St. James' Park."

Evie was chauffeuring the Maharajah Duleep Singh around Westminster so that he may convene with certain politicians about a violation in a treaty he had signed with Parliament. In return for her services, he had promised to reveal to her the location of the _copies_ of the Buckingham Palace plans, giving her a last-ditch means of uncovering the Shroud before Mr. Starrick. On the way to their next politician's meeting spot, the two of them made small talk.

"I notice Mr. Green did not accompany you," the Maharajah said pointedly.

"He has other things to attend to," Evie replied. It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't entirely the truth either.

"Ah. A pity. You two seemed to get along nicely."

"Well, that was a problem, you see. 'One must not allow personal feelings to compromise one's mission.'"

"That sounds like a quotation."

"It is. From my father."

"Ethan Frye."

Evie perked up at the sound of her deceased father's name. "You knew him?"

"No, unfortunately," the Maharajah admitted. "But Mr. Green spoke of him. He sounded like an extraordinary man."

"He was, Your Highness." She willed herself to smile, touched that Henry had taken the time to share this detail with his great-uncle.

"And your mother as well," the Maharajah went on. "Cecily Frye. She and your father were partners, _inseparable._ The only duo that came close to challenging Mr. Starrick. And very much in love, at least, from the small amount I have been told."

"Cecily." Evie repeated the word softly, as though it were a secret. "I wish I could have met her." She had had few mother figures growing up, save for her grandmother and Mrs. Tucker, the kindly next door neighbour who'd taken the time to educate her on womanly matters when she was fourteen. She had always wondered how different life might have been, had her mother survived childbirth. Perhaps she would know more about navigating the spheres of duty and womanhood now, had she been granted that extra voice in her life.

"From what Mr. Green gathered, you share much in common," said the Maharajah. "Your intelligence, for one."

"Father never spoke of her," Evie confessed. And she had been too afraid to ask. Whenever she and Jacob had tried to broach the subject, his eyes would grow cold, and he'd divert their attention to some other matter. Over time, they'd learned to stop asking about her altogether.

"What would Mr. Green know?" she added curiously. "He was only a boy when he trained with my father."

"Children can be quite perceptive, Miss Frye."

The conversation shifted to other matters. Evie drove the Maharajah to St. James' Park and picked up another politician. From there, they travelled to the Palace of Westminster, then the Gladstone Residence, and finally, the Sinopean Club. Once the Maharajah had finished his impromptu appointments with all the required Members of Parliament, he dismounted the carriage to share with Evie the information she'd requested.

"Thank you, Miss Frye, for forwarding my cause."

"Oh, you are welcome," she replied. "I hope some good comes of it, despite Mr. Gladstone's vitriol."

"Those of us with the largest hearts protect them the most," he stated wisely. "Your father, for instance. From what I understand, he was extraordinarily sad, _broken_ even, after your mother's passing. That kind of pain can blind us, can cause us to say outlandish things to protect the ones we love. It's time you returned this carriage and recovered those plans. They are located in Buckingham Palace. The Queen keeps them among her personal papers in the White Drawing Room. I wish you a good evening, Miss Evie Frye."

"And to you, Your Highness," Evie said with a nod.

She remained deep in thought as she returned the royal carriage to the depot. She knew she should be brainstorming her means of entering the Queen's drawing-room, but instead, all she could think about was the Maharajah's remarks concerning her parents. She was so confused. All this time, she'd been confident that she'd made the right choice in distancing herself from Mr. Green. She could not let herself get attached to him, not when she had the Creed to uphold, and a Piece of Eden to collect. It was what her father would want, and he had never been wrong about anything. At least, she'd always believed in that fact… until today.

She remembered how happy she and Henry used to be, laughing and joking over the smallest of things. She recalled the excitement of having him by her side as she went into the field, an excitement that had since diminished, now that she had forcefully put an end to that part of their relationship. She had always been so uptight and obsessed with getting the minute details right—but Henry was the one to reassure her, to make her feel that even if she miscalculated, she would still emerge victorious in the end. On the days when she felt like she was nothing but a heartless killing machine, he was the one to bring her back into the light and help her remember her humanity.

Maybe her father was wrong. Maybe love wasn't a weakness. Maybe it was a strength.

* * *

Crawford Starrick was dead. And Evie and Jacob's rift mended. All that was left to do was to return the Shroud of Eden to its rightful place. As Jacob picked it off the ground and folded it neatly, Evie heard Henry stir from where he'd fallen unconscious after trying to save her and her brother from one of Mr. Starrick's attacks.

"Henry!" she exclaimed. She ran to him without a thought, all propriety forgotten as she grasped his hand and helped him sit up from the floor.

"It's a big world out there," Jacob remarked as he placed the Shroud back into its mysteriously crafted compartment. "With London in the center."

"Perhaps not the very center." Evie looked at Henry and smirked. He seemed stable, if not a little disoriented from his sudden brush with the Templar Grand Master.

"I came as soon as I could," he explained. "Do not worry, I'll-I'll head back to the train. Did I"—his gaze darted over to Starrick's dead body and his eyes grew wide—"did I jeopardize the mission?"

Evie grinned. "Henry, you _saved_ it."

His startled expression turned into a relieved smile. And then Evie leaned forward and kissed him. It was short and chaste, but the vigour in which he responded to her told her that he would not object to more. After all they had been through, kissing Henry Green felt as natural to Evie as the warm sun on her skin after weeks of wandering through cold London rain.

"I think you belong in the field," she declared once they had pulled away. "With me."

* * *

Starrick's death called for "celebration," as Jacob would have it. In a tavern in the Whitechapel district, he banded Rooks and Assassins together for a night of drinking, gambling and general merry making. Amongst the chaotic ruckus, off-key singing and carousing, Evie and Henry snuck out to the rooftops to watch the stars over the sleeping city.

"Miss Evie," Henry said tentatively. "If I may ask, what made you change your mind?"

"Someone once told me that people with the largest hearts protect them the most," Evie answered. "That pain and love make us say things we don't really mean. It's time I learned to start listening to my feelings, instead of protecting them."

"It sounds like you've been exchanging words with my great-uncle."

"I have," she admitted. "He shared with me some sound advice. I'm sorry for my behaviour back in the Strand. I shouldn't have ended our partnership so abruptly, especially when you'd barely been in the field. I was just so frustrated and worried—"

"I understand." He gently grasped her hand. "Evie, I always knew I felt something for you. Only, I did not think it was in my place to... _intervene,_ given your commitment to your father's teachings. And for all my expertise in British and Indian poetry, I fear that I have always been a man of little words."

Evie laughed and kissed him on the cheek. "To me, Henry, you are perfect. Maybe not the best at hiding in plain sight, but that's something we can work on."

"I would be honoured to learn some of your tricks, Miss Frye."

They continued to sit and watch the full moon in companionable silence, Henry draping an arm over Evie's shoulder as she leaned comfortably against his chest. Their fight with the Templars was far from over, but for tonight, she would allow herself this small breath of tranquillity. Starrick was gone, Jacob was happy, a man she loved was by her side, and she had learned some new and valuable truths about herself along the way. A weight she'd been carrying inside of herself since her father's death had lifted, leaving her light-hearted, content, and hopeful for the future.


End file.
